


scenes from a marriage

by heartsfilthylesson



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:06:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsfilthylesson/pseuds/heartsfilthylesson
Summary: or bits and flashes of whatever it is zulema zahir and macarena ferreiro have.a collection of drabbles set before el oasis.
Relationships: Zulema Zahir/Macarena Ferreiro
Comments: 15
Kudos: 47





	scenes from a marriage

**Author's Note:**

> so i write mostly in english but watch vis a vis in spanish and my poor, overtaxed brain had a hard time mixing the two.......and yet here we are.

She finds Zulema perched atop their mobile home, a hand-rolled cigarette between her lips and her hands in front of her face as if shielding herself from the glaring morning sun. But it’s late, at least three in the morning, and the sun won’t rise for a few more hours.  
  
“Looking for your heartline?” Maca asks from her spot on the ground.  
  
A long moment passes before Zulema acknowledges her presence with a huff. She shifts in the chair and plucks the cigarette from her lips. “Found it, too,” she says, voice dripping sarcasm like honey off a knife. “Fate is for fools. I create my own destiny.”  
  
Macarena supposes she doesn’t believe in fate either, not anymore. There was a time when her life was perfectly mapped out, from her graduation to her first job to a big house with a big yard, all white haired and wrinkled and full of stories, with her children and their own children scattered around her. But if life has a script to follow, it’s bound by choice and chance and consequence and she’s never been good at making decisions.  
  
Her mind drifts to her mother, to her father, to her brother, to life before Zulema, to everything she could have had but never will. Those thoughts lead down a dark path so she puts them in a box and shoves it away.  
  
“You want a drink?” It’s more of a statement than a question and she’s inside before she can hear Zulema's answer.  
  
The counter is full of bottles, more than she can count with two hands, yet there’s barely enough to craft a half-decent sandwich, an obvious sign it had been Zulema’s turn to shop. She can’t choose between vodka and tequila so she takes both and doesn’t bother with glasses.  
  
“Which one?” Macarena holds the bottles up, one in each hand.  
  
She shrugs and extends her arm. “Tequila.”  
  
Macarena settles into her spot on the roof, her head level with Zulema’s, facing the opposite direction. Together but distant, united but separate.  
  
They have been drinking and smoking in silence for what feels like hours when she hears Zulema hum. She’s almost half-asleep and has to concentrate to really listen. It’s a soft, rhythmic murmur and though she doesn’t understand the words, recognizes it as one Zulema often sings.  
  
“I’ve never told you,” Macarena says, sounding more alert than she feels. “But you have a really nice voice. You could have been a famous singer.”  
  
“Ah yes,” she laughs. “Zulema Zahir and her Habibti Funk.”  
  
“I was thinking more metal,” Maca says, a thousand possibilities running through her mind like wild horses. “Or rock, maybe. Don’t you ever—"  
  
Zulema cuts her off before she can finish. “No.”  
  
It’s not the first time she asks but it’s the first time she presses. “Come on. Look, I’ll tell you, I often won—”  
  
“Don’t,” she interrupts her a second time. She pauses as if considering her words, but Macarena doubts Zulema has a considerate bone, a considerate cartilage even, in her body. “You enjoy dwelling, blondie. It’s always forward for me.”  
  
Maca can’t argue with that.


End file.
